


so i'll go sit on the floor wearing your clothes

by hazyhowell



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2 am fics with emily, DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, Death, Loss, Phan - Freeform, dnp, this is what happens when i listen to the same sad song on repeat by myself for hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 02:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazyhowell/pseuds/hazyhowell
Summary: a short midnight blurb





	so i'll go sit on the floor wearing your clothes

It’s cold in this house now. Your presence, it brought so much warmth and light; I don’t know what I’ll do now that you’re gone.  
I pause, dropping the pen on the counter. I slowly get off my chair and start walking to your room. I grasp at the walls in the hallway for support. My legs, my body, they’re still so shaky, so unstable. I don’t trust them. I feel like they could nope out of a situation at any given time without warning. So I trust the the permanent fixtures of the house - the walls, tables, bedsides.  
I pause in his doorway, unsure of whether or not to actually go in. I haven’t, not really, not since what happened. I could never bring myself to. Except for now.   
I tentatively place one foot into the room, waiting as if something would try and force me out. One unsteady foot in front of the other, I stumble to the wardrobe. I close my eyes and grab at the handles. I yank the doors open with more force than anticipated; I’m slightly startled by my own movements, but I recover quickly.  
I chuckle slightly at the familiar sight of his clothes and the memories that go with them.  
A knot starts tying itself inside my throat. The water starts swelling behind my eyes, trying to build up enough to break through. I chastise myself, muttering, “No, this isn’t the time. You can’t just break at every reminder of him.”   
I shake my head, trying to suppress what I’ve been letting out for so long now.  
My hand reaches out and carefully flips through the articles of clothing. I choke up after only a few shirts. My hand lingers on one, and I gently pull it off the hanger. I grasp it in both of my hands and stare at it.  
This was one of his favorites, this jumper, the long gray one that said “sexual fantasies” on the sleeve. I clutch it to me, burying my face into it like I used to do his chest.   
I start crying, sobbing really, and shaking. I miss him. I want him - no, I need him - back, alive and in my arms. He had to go, though; I can’t bring him back. He’s gone, and that’s forever.  
I unwrinkle the jumper from my hands and tug it over my head. I clutch my sides, as if grasping at the shirt will equal holding him.   
Face sticky from the tears, I walk back to the lounge.  
I grab my pen and paper from the table and sit down on the floor.  
I haven’t left the house. Our family and friends have tried making me, but I won’t. The world acts so happy and cheerful, but it isn’t right. No one seems to act like your death meant something. I don’t want to witness that. Why do others get to just go about their lives? Why doesn’t their world come crashing down with you?   
You were a part of my life. My existence didn’t survive without yours, so I have no fucking idea what I’m going to do. I could have fifty years left, Dan. Fifty years, and you’re not in it. How am I supposed to survive that? We planned our entire lives together. You were there with me, and I was there with you. I don’t know what to do.   
There’s no color in my life anymore. No light, no joy, no smiles. Just tears, and sorrow, and emptiness. And I would have that when you were still here, too. But at least you were there to help me get through it. I didn’t have to be strong; I could save the strength that I had. All my strength is gone, though - used up, nonexistent. The news of your death wiped my entire being clean of it.   
What is left for me to do? I can’t carry on, everyone knows it. We were together, we were one, yet you were so violently and unwillingly ripped away from me.  
I can’t continue here. I think you know my next step. See you soon, Dan.  
Love,  
Phil  
I fold the letter once and grab the backpack that waits on the sofa.   
I leave to house for the first time in months. I make my way to a main street to find a taxi so I can go to where you are.   
I arrive at the cemetery shortly after. I walk past the rows of headstones, of stories and names I’ll never hear.  
I know the route to Dan’s grave. I’ve only walked it once, but it’s been ingrained in me.  
I reach it and pause. “Hey,” I whisper, my voice cracking.  
Wasting no time at all, I take out the small orange bottle that’s in my bag. I pour a third of the pills into my hand and swallow them.   
I take my seat next to Dan’s headstone. I pull the letter out from my pocket and hold it to my chest. I lay down, hands placed gently over the paper.  
“I’ll be back to you soon, Dan.”  
I take a deep, peaceful breath in and out. I close my eyes and wait for my life to continue on once again.


End file.
